Page 67 of Maddox
“Shh,” he said before setting her gently on the floor.
I held my breath as he approached the coffee table, no doubt staring at the remnants of the drug paraphernalia left there.
The silence in the room sent a shiver down my spine while I gazed at my mom, her cheek mashed against the floor and her wide eyes spacy.
“Why?” he rasped, bowing his head but she didn’t answer, and he kicked the table before swinging around, shouting, “Why, Helen?”
Covering my mouth, I bit back my cry as Mom rolled to her back and said, “I lost him.”
This is when I turned to walk back down the stairs because I couldn’t leave my mom alone while she confessed her sins but before I reached the bottom, Peter shouted, “What the fuck are you talking about? Do you see yourself right now?”
Immune to his rage, Mom punched her chest and cried, “I knew it would come for me eventually.”
Frozen, I looked between them as Peter grabbed the back of his neck and said, “What? What are you talking about?”
Clenching the fabric of her robe between her fingers, she said, “I didn’t deserve Petey. He was too pure. I’ll never see him again.”
Her brittle tone punched at my chest and Peter’s bitter chuckle rebounded around the room before he sneered, “Petey is dead because your slutty daughter was fucking her boyfriend when she should have been watching her brother, Helen.”
Visions of her lying there like a broken damn doll danced through my head as I walked away and later that evening, I packed my shit and left.
Now, as I sit on my childhood bed and stare into nothing, I realize that there’s nothing Peter or my mom could say to me that can change this story, and I grab my bag before stepping down the stairs.
I gave them both the benefit of the doubt. I loved them despite their mistakes, but I can’t look either of them in the eyes anymore.
I don’t want to be here when Peter wakes up, but I don’t want to go home and instead, I text Draven, hoping she’ll answer.
To my relief she responds quickly, and we agree to meet up nearby.
However, when I turn to the kitchen, I zero in on the tray beside the sink and ease toward it carefully. Now that I’ve decided to leave, I really don’t want to wake Peter up but now that I’ve seen the papers resting on top, my curiosity has gotten the better of me.
With a last glance at the stairs, I crouch before the cupboard where Mom keeps all the important papers and open it before staring inside.
I’ve never bothered to look here because whenever I needed something official for school or anything else. Mom always handled it, but Joey said he wasn’t my father. His name did not match mine on his identification.
Who am I?
Unfortunately, my birth certificate is not on top, and it takes me several minutes to shuffle through the papers before I stop on the forms dedicated to me.
The first document is my social security card, which I know has the last name Smith because I needed it to get the job at the diner. The next one though is my birth certificate, and I trace my fingers over my name—Delaney Ann Smith—before moving to my parents.
Except where the father should be, it’s blank. What does this mean? Is Joey truly not my father?
If not, who is?
The creak of the floorboard overhead brings me around and I slide the papers in my hand inside my backpack before sneaking out the side door.
All the while, my mind races with the information I just found, and I feel foolish for never having checked before.
Draven is already at the curb, her head dipped to her phone when I arrive and I wince as I slide into my seat and she snarls, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Whoever’s on the other side barks right back and after a moment, she sneers, “Yessir.”
The caller is still yelling when she ends the call and eyeing her sideways, I wisely don’t ask when she slams her hands against the steering wheel.
It’s awkward as fuck as she enters the highway and I watch the passing trees, wishing I was blissfully unaware of everything and curled up in my damn bed.
Who am I? If Joey isn’t my father, who is and why are they lying?
